


Against the Stream

by withhishands



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withhishands/pseuds/withhishands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmates aren't strictly male-female pairings. They never have been. That doesn't stop the widespread discrimination against non-heterosexual couples. Mickey's heard the talk in his house, from his dad, from his family, and he makes the decision to just never tell anyone. He hopes that he never meets Ian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Stream

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had an explanation as to where this came from, but I don't. This is an apology to my wonderful anon who encourages me to update "Freedom". I got a little sidetracked, dear, and wrote this instead! Sorry! <3

When Mickey is in sixth grade, Ian's name appears on his wrist. He's heard this moment is supposed to be the second best moment of his life, but all it does to Mickey is terrify him. Frantically, he rushes to the corner store and purchases a wrist cuff. The cashier congratulates him with a warm smile that only serves to make Mickey nauseous.

His father notices the cuff. Of course he does. In the endless seconds between when his father sees the cuff and when he speaks, Mickey prepares for the worst. He's afraid his dad's going to rip the cuff off and stare at the scarred name. It goes against social norms and Illinois state law to remove a cuff without explicit consent, but Mickey knows his dad isn't a law abiding citizen. All his dad does, however, is clap him on the back and ask what her name is. 

"Anna," Mickey blurts. He doesn't know why he says Anna of all names, but his dad just smiles and says, "Good for you, son," and it makes Mickey sick. 

Soulmates aren't strictly male-female pairings. They never have been. That doesn't stop the widespread discrimination against non-heterosexual couples. Mickey's heard the talk in his house, from his dad, from his family, and he makes the decision to just never tell anyone. He hopes that he never meets Ian. 

Mickey gets thrown in juvie at fifteen for stealing from a convenience store. Juvie's actually nice. Yeah, he gets jumped three times his first week, but once he gets the lay of the land, he fits in pretty well. He gets his knuckles tattooed and starts wailing on the new kids. He helps the crew he runs with beat up a kid named John because his wrist says Isaac. It makes Mickey sick enough that he throws up after. No one goes after Mickey's wrist, thank God, but it still makes Mickey's stomach turn, knowing that he would suffer the same. 

There's only two months between when Mickey gets out of juvie and when his father goes to prison for grand theft. The last time his dad went to jail, his mother had been alive. She hadn't been around, but the law never looked into it, and Mickey and his siblings just handled everything by themselves. This time, his mom is dead, and the government places them in the system. 

Mickey ends up in a group home with Iggy in Rockford. The high school they end up in, East High School, is narrowly better than Tilden back in Chicago. The guidance counselor who sets up Mickey's classes also gives him an East High School shirt that says "Home of the E-Rabs" on the back. Mickey ends up in the Dean's office his first day for setting the shirt on fire in the cafeteria. 

He finds seven Ian's at school and none of them are his Ian. He wants to be glad, but he's overwhelmingly sad about it. He's told himself for five years that he doesn't want to find Ian. It's a big lie. He hates how much he wants to find Ian. He wants to know what it's like to meet his other half, the one person made entirely for Mickey, the one person Mickey was made for. He can't help but wish the fates were a little more specific and gave him a last name, maybe a phone number. 

He makes it through junior year and spends the summer getting high on the train tracks. Mickey gets arrested once for public urination and almost arrested for trespassing. He makes friends in the form of the potheads who hang out at the tracks.

Summer is nearly perfect. The group home doesn’t give him much shit as long as he shows up for breakfast, and Iggy for the most part leaves him alone. They've never been close and this experience certainly doesn't miraculously bring them together. He scores Mickey a job at a gas station cleaning toilets and mopping, so that's at least something. Mickey's boss is kind of a dick, but it's nothing Mickey can't handle. 

Mandy calls him somehow at the group home. She says her social worker found out where Mickey was placed. 

"Iggy's here, too," Mickey comments. 

"I don't give a fuck about Iggy."

Mandy says she's fine. She got put in a house with seven other girls on the other side of the neighborhood, but she goes to the same school. Mickey doesn't know how he ended up with the shit end of the stick, all the way in Rockford. Mandy says it's because he had it coming. Mandy isn't working, but she says she hangs out a lot at the Kash and Grab because one of her friends works there. She says he might be able to get her a job. 

"Ian's pretty nice," she says. 

"What?" Mickey asks before his throat dries out. 

"My friend," she says. "Who works at the store. Jesus, you're dumb. You're not even listening to me."

"Ian what?"

"Gallagher," she says. "Lip's brother."

Mickey knows Lip. He used to write papers for Mickey in school. He knows that Lip has a lot of siblings, but Mickey so did not give a fuck about Lip's siblings when he lived at home. He gives a fuck now. 

Mandy sighs and complains about his quietness. Mickey can't bring himself to say anything because he feels a little sick. It's probably not even the right Ian, he tells himself. How many Ian's has he met that have not been his Ian? Too many. Mickey tells himself he doesn't care. He does not care. 

"If you're not gonna fuckin' talk," Mandy says. 

"I- look, I gotta go."

Mickey hangs up and doesn't call Mandy for a month. He spends the month working and definitely not thinking about this Ian that Mandy knows who might be the Ian on his wrist. He does not do that. Not at all. 

When he does finally call her, he feels like his skin is on fire. He listens to her drone on about every little thing that could have possibly changed, waiting for a mention of Ian. He can't just bring him up. He can't just say, Tell me more about that Ian guy you're friends with. What's he look like? What name does he have under his wrist cuff? Mickey is not that kind of person. As far as Mandy knows, the name on his wrist says Anna and always has. 

"How's Rockford?"

Mickey almost doesn't hear the question because he's been so focused on listening for Ian's name. 

"Boring," he mumbles. "Same as home."

"Yeah." Mandy stays quiet for a moment. Mickey worries that means she's done talking. Not a single mention of Ian. "I'm thinking about visiting you?"

"Uh, why?"

"Fuck you. I don't know," she snaps. "I guess I miss you. I've got time next week and the home said I could go."

"How you gettin' here?"

"Lip has a van," she says. 

"He comin' with you?" Mickey grinds his teeth. Lip is the wrong Gallagher. 

"Yeah," she says. "I can't drive that thing."

Mickey guesses it's a plan, then. He hangs up with Mandy and doesn't talk to her for a whole week. He amazingly doesn't get in trouble that week. Mainly, it's because he hasn't done much aside from lay on the bunk beds in the group home and daydream about what it'll be like to meet Ian one day. Even if his Ian isn't the Ian that Mandy knows, Mickey will eventually meet his Ian. That's part of the deal. Unless one of them dies. Mickey's father still wears his wrist cuff even though his wrist is empty. Mickey knows it's empty because his mother is dead and that's what happens. Their name disappears. 

Mickey can't remember what his wrist looked like before it had Ian on it. He remembers how raw and pink it had been right after it appeared. Now, it rests on his wrist like a scar. Ian's name is raised and almost white like scar tissue. He so badly wants to see his own name on someone else's wrist. 

Mandy calls him from the road and asks for directions. He couldn't give directions from the highway sober and he certainly can't do it now, slightly high and slightly drunk. He sits outside the group home on the steps and listens to Mandy curse at him for being useless. She calls out things they're passing until Mickey can figure out where they are. 

The van is old. Mickey doesn't know how it lasted on the highway or even got out of Chicago to start with. Mandy waves out of the passenger window and tries to jimmy the door open. The guy in the driver's seat, Lip, hops out and helps Mandy open her door. Except Lip doesn't look like the mental image of him that Mickey has. He's got red hair, broad shoulders, and a kind face. Not Lip. Mickey's heart beats loud in his ears. 

"Jesus," Mandy yells, trying to open the back side door. "Nothing on the fucking van works. Ian!"

The red head, Ian (Jesus mother fucking Christ is that his Ian?), laughs and yanks on the handle until the side door opens. Mandy leaves him to fumble around in the back of the van and starts walking toward Mickey. 

"Hey," she says with a half-smile. She sits down on the stairs next to Mickey and stares out at the road. 

Mickey doesn't say anything. He can't think of anything to say that isn't about Ian, so he doesn't say anything at all. Mandy doesn't seem to mind; he rarely contributes to their phone conversations. She makes a few disparaging comments about Mickey's directions, or lack thereof, and about his current inebriated state. 

Ian walks up the path with Mandy's purse in hand. Mickey hopes so bad that this is his Ian because the guy is good-looking. Mickey wants to lift up the front of his shirt and press his fingers into the probably pale, probably muscled stomach, if his visible skin is anything to go by. Mickey gets distracted by the way his shirt is tight around his biceps, the way his short, red hair looks in the sun. 

"Here," Ian says, passing Mandy her purse. 

"We're hungry," Mandy says and looks at Mickey, waiting for an answer. 

"Uh," Mickey says, high enough to be slow on the uptake. "Greek? There's a Greek place down the street."

Ian shrugs and defers to Mandy for the final say. Mandy approves his suggestion. On the walk to the restaurant, Mickey mainly listens to Mandy and Ian rehash the best moments of the drive here. Apparently, there was a terrifying moment with a semi and a beyond hilarious moment where an old guy in the vehicle next to them was dancing in his car. Mickey only cares that Ian has a great laugh and an even greater smile. It's difficult, though, to walk straight when all he wants to do is keep his eyes on Ian's face. 

With all the other Ian's that he's met, he hadn't been sure. None of them felt like it. That's how it was described to them in school. Mickey is supposed to feel it. No one could ever offer anything more than you'll know it when you feel it, and Mickey hated that more than anything. 

But he feels it now. He wonders if Ian can, too. If not, maybe Mickey is just confusing it with lust. Maybe it's lust he's feeling. 

Ian doesn't act weird over food. He sits close to Mandy and bumps her shoulder during good stories or to get her attention. He laughs and smiles and frowns and doesn't act like he wants to rip the cuff off of Mickey's wrist like Mickey wants so badly to do to him. 

They stay out late, at the train yard and at the Oki Dog next to it. Seeing Mandy is great, even if he'd never tell her. They aren't necessarily any closer than any of their other siblings, but Mickey does like her better. He guesses that goes both ways because she hasn't asked about Iggy a single time. Oki Dog is open until two in the morning, but after it closes, they don't really have another hang out spot. Ian parks the van around the back of the group home, where it's not likely to get towed and they say their goodnight's. Mandy and Ian are sleeping in the van. It makes Mickey angry, thinking about them sleeping so close in the small back of that old van, but he pushes his anger down and forces a nod. 

His dreams are wonderful and terrible at the same time. They're full of hope and excitement about finding Ian, but has he actually found Ian? He has a small dream, right before he wakes up, about Ian's wrist and about the raised, white scar of someone else's name on it. 

Mickey takes them to the gas station he works at for breakfast food and they eat it on the curb outside. 

"You weren't joking about how boring it is here," Mandy comments. 

Mickey shakes his head. Rockford could be interesting, he supposes, if he tried. Chicago is interesting only because the shit Mickey does there is more dangerous and less law-abiding. Mickey gets in trouble for dumb shit in Rockford, and usually because he's high most of the time, not because he's running with the wrong crowds. 

"Gotta pee," Mandy says, standing up. "That way?" She points around the side of the building. Mickey nods. 

He's alone with Ian. He's too chicken shit to say anything and spends the next thirty seconds mentally berating himself for being such a fucking loser. 

"Is Mickey short for anything?" Ian asks, filling the silence. "Mandy says it isn't, but."

"Michael," Mickey says. "I've never gone by it. She probably doesn't know."

In one breathtaking moment, Mickey panics. Ian slides closer to him, into the spot Mandy previously occupied, and unstraps his wrist cuff. Mickey immediately looks away. It's the polite thing to do, but more than that, Mickey can't look at it. He knows why Ian asked. He knows what he's going to see when he looks down. 

"Michael," Ian says. Mickey closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at Ian's wrist. He sees the light script of his name scarred on Ian’s wrist. He can feel his nostrils flare and his face heat up. Ian is looking at him, his head sideways. Mickey’s head is turned just enough to be able to see Ian’s wrist. 

He looks away. 

He hears the snap of the wrist cuff going back into place. Ian slides away. 

“Mickey,” Ian says softly. 

“You got the wrong Michael,” Mickey says roughly. 

He thought that moment was supposed to be the greatest moment of his life. Mickey thinks he must be broken because instead of feeling happy (and he should be happy because he's got no doubt that Ian is his soulmate), he feels terrified. It's the same sinking feeling he felt the first time he saw the name on his wrist. He's reacting wrong to everything and it's making him dizzy. 

Mickey stands up stiffly and starts pacing. Ian reaches out to him, his hand brushing Mickey's arm. 

"Get the fuck off me," Mickey snaps. 

Mandy comes back confused and tries awkwardly to fix whatever happened in her absence. Mickey stays quiet. Mandy is talking to Ian in a low, angry voice, but Mickey can't make out what she's saying. 

"Hey," Mandy says, approaching Mickey. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Mickey shakes his head. "I gotta work today, so you can either go home or stay. I don't care."

Mandy tries to give him a pleading look, but he bites his lip and walks away. His boss eyes him when Mickey asks for an extra shift, please, just for today, but lets him stay. Mickey can't tell if Mandy and Ian left or not and he pretends to not care. 

He spills two crates of product, one of soda, one of protein bars. The protein survives, but the soda breaks. Mickey spends a good two hours mopping up sticky soda from the stock room. It's relaxing and monotonous and just enough to get him out of his mind. 

Mandy calls a few days later and doesn't mention Ian. 

Weeks pass; summer ends. Mickey drinks more and gets high more and fucks more. The near-crippling guilt he feels after having sex is almost enough to make him quit, but he doesn't. School isn't great, but he's got friends who think he's tough and kind of funny. Mickey's been in worse situations. 

He's in the office at the gas station using the computer to actually do his school work. His English partner is supposed to email him the instructions. He had to call Mandy earlier from a pay phone outside of the school to get his email address. She's the one who set it up for him a million years ago, and Mickey never bothered to commit it to memory. 

His inbox is relatively empty. He's got a few emails from Mandy from god knows how long ago, one from his English partner, and one from gallagher723@yahoo.com. Mickey clicks on that one immediately. 

 

"To: mickmvich@gmail.com  
From: gallagher723@yahoo.com  
Subject: Hey  
  
Mandy gave me your email. I'm sorry that I freaked you out, but we need to talk about this.  
-Ian"

 

Mickey reads it a dozen times before closing it. He opens the email from his partner and works on the project. It's just a report, but they have to use online journals as sources and Mickey doesn't have access to the school's database. It's some computer glitch; it doesn't recognize him as a student still for some reason. Lyle, his partner, emailed him downloaded files of the articles. He prints off the articles and logs out of his account. 

He gets four more emails from Ian over the course of the next month. Mickey reads them and doesn't reply. Mickey compulsively checks his email, now, even though he never sends Ian anything back. 

 

"To: mickmvich@gmail.com  
From: gallagher723@yahoo.com  
Subject: good morning  
  
It feels a little ridiculous to keep sending these to you. I got Mandy a job with me. I don't know if she told you or not. She said you weren't really close, but she likes you judging by the way she talks about you. Which is good I guess because Lip said you're a douchebag and I just really needed to hear something good about you because you’re not helping your case being quiet.  
  
Please email me back.”

 

"To: gallagher732@yahoo.com  
From: mickmvich@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: good morning  
  
i am a douchebag”

 

Winter winds around again, marking eight months of being away from Chicago. The only thing he misses on a consistent basis about Chicago is having his own room. He’s got the routine down at the group home, but sleeping in a small room with nine other guys is awful no matter how used to it he is. 

And he misses Ian even though he’s only met him once. 

Mickey swallows that feeling and tries to sleep. He can hear four different snores and one set of lungs rattling. Sleep is always difficult. He can’t forget about Ian. He doesn’t want to, really. It’s an odd dichotomy, wanting Ian and not wanting Ian. It gives him an actual stomach ache thinking about not being with Ian, about choosing to ignore their status as soulmates. But, he doesn’t think he’s cut out to walk against the stream. He doesn’t think he can stand proudly with Ian at his side, declaring himself one half of a homosexual couple. Not when there are people out there like his dad (people who are his dad) that would immediately condemn him for it. He wonders how Mandy would react. She might already know. Mickey doesn’t know if Ian’s told her anything because, well, Mickey doesn’t know anything about Ian except for what he writes in his emails. 

Mickey knows some things about Ian, then. He knows what his siblings’ names are. He knows that Ian works at the Kash and Grab. He knows that Ian’s favorite food is french fries dipped in blue cheese dressing. He knows that Ian doesn’t want pets. He knows that Ian is honest and doesn’t talk a lot. 

It’s nothing Mickey needs to know, but it’s everything he wants to know. 

He calls Mandy a few days later and tries his best to not sound suspicious when he asks for Ian’s phone number. Mandy doesn’t make a big deal about it. She just rattles off his number and says goodbye. It takes Mickey another week before he works up the nerve to call Ian. 

“Hello?” Ian answers. 

“Hey,” Mickey mumbles. “It’s Mickey.”

There’s a sigh from Ian that Mickey hopes is a happy sigh. 

“Hey,” Ian says. 

“We should, ah, meet up again?” Mickey makes a face at how dumb he sounds. He nervously bites at his finger. “I mean. Yeah, no. We should- meet up.”

“Okay,” Ian says. “I can take a bus?”

“I thought you had a van.”

“Yeah,” Ian says with a laugh. Mickey quirks a smile at the sound. “That’s definitely broken now. We tried to put a barbeque into the back of it to, you know, drive to the park and sell food or whatever. And we set it on fire.”

A laugh bubbles out of Mickey’s chest. It feels good. 

“A bus, then,” Mickey agrees. Ian says he can come to Rockford in two days, when he’s not working and doesn’t have school. Hanging up feels awkward, but Mickey feels like he’s busting at the seams with happiness anyway. 

Mickey plans to meet him at the bus depot on Saturday. He wakes up too early, shocks Tim, the morning guardian at the home, with his presence at breakfast, and makes his way further into the city. He sits at the bus depot for an hour and fifteen minutes before the Chicago bus arrives. 

Ian gives him an odd wave when he steps off of the bus. Mickey waves back. They don’t say much in the way of greetings because they don’t know what to say. Mickey takes Ian to a diner after Ian comments that he could go for some pancakes. 

“Can I see it?” Ian asks quietly after the waitress takes his order. He motions to Mickey’s wrist and, more specifically, his cuff. Instead of just taking it off himself and offering his wrist to Ian, he lays his hand across the diner table and lets Ian take it off. 

Cautiously, Ian wraps his large, strong hands around Mickey’s wrist, holds them there for a second and then pulls at the snaps. Until now, no one has seen Mickey’s wrist aside from Mickey. He’s a little embarrassed by the obvious tan lines the cuff caused, especially because Ian is pale enough that he doesn’t suffer from the same condition. It’s easily dismissed, though, because Ian is staring down at Mickey’s wrist like he’s going to cry. 

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Mickey mumbles and wiggles his wrist. Ian tightens his grip on Mickey’s wrist. He runs his fingers over his own raised name, making Mickey shiver. Without a word, Ian snaps the cuff back into place and leans back. 

After clearing his throat, Ian says, “I wasn’t expecting to be so overwhelmed.”

Mickey knows the feeling.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole wrist cuff/name thing was taken from this Klaine fic I read forever ago called "Expectation Fails" by lilinas. I highly recommend reading it even if that ship isn't your favorite. 
> 
> The Oki Dog mentioned is no where near Illinois and is actually a hot dog restaurant in Los Angeles. I just really like it, so I uprooted and relocated it.
> 
> As always, I'm on tumblr (withhishands.tumblr.com). Feel free to yell at me on there about any mistakes in this fic. Or, you know, to just say hi.


End file.
